Best Served Cold
by MoistTowelette
Summary: After dating for months Puck breaks Kurt's heart and Santana swoops in and shows our favorite male diva just how healing revenge can be. Together the two wreak havoc on Puck's life, making the mohawked teen regret he ever messed with Kurt. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its characters, and the lyrics to the song "Rolling in the Deep" belong to the phenomenal singer Adele.**

**Summary: When Puck breaks Kurt's heart Santana swoops in and helps show the shattered boy how healing revenge can be.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_**There's a fire starting in my heart…**_

"Hey Kurt," Mercedes said brightly as the countertenor arrived at his locker located right next to hers. She tried her best to sound upbeat, but not so much as to annoy her friend. She'd heard about his recent breakup; not from him, which stung a bit seeing as they were besties and told each other everything, but from Rachel who'd heard it from Finn, who'd spent all weekend trying to cheer up his heartbroken brother, succeeding only in gluing his hands together while making a "Hope You Feel Better" card and starting a small fire in the kitchen while trying to bake him a cake.

Mercedes closed her locker as she took in the sight of Kurt. His usually neat hair was disheveled and carelessly combed to the side, and his outfit seemed to have been thrown together as an afterthought, as if Kurt had nearly walked out of the door naked and only realized clothes were a necessity at the last minute. His face was another story. His lips were chapped and the area around his nose was red and irritated, probably from repeatedly blowing his nose with harsh, scratchy tissue. His eyes were hidden beneath a large pair of Jackie O. style sunglasses, hiding what were undoubtedly large and puffy eyes, the result of three straight days and nights of crying.

She reached out and pulled a stray fabric softener sheet sticking out from Kurt's pocket, crumbling it up and throwing it on the ground. Still Kurt didn't look at her, instead staring inside his locker mindlessly, his hands at his side like a zombie.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, gently rubbing his arm.

Kurt didn't respond to her gesture, but hearing her voice seemed to have broken him from his reverie. He said quietly, "I'm fine. There's nothing to talk about." He said it as cheerfully as he could even though his voice threatened to crack with each syllable. Mercedes bit her lip anxiously; she wanted to help, but how do you help someone who refuses to acknowledge there was a problem? And in Kurt's world, where everyone was impeccably dressed with airbrushed skin and camera-ready smiles, there was no room for imperfection. So he did his best to ignore the problem at hand, choosing instead to present a happy face to the world, hoping no one saw past the façade. Knowing this, Mercedes felt there was nothing she could do in helping her best friend deal with his first break-up.

"I'm here for anything if you need it. You know that, right?" she said comfortingly. Kurt turned to her and opened his mouth, about to repeat his previous statement, when something behind him caught his eye. Before she could ask what was wrong Kurt grabbed a random book from his locker, slamming it shut as he walked away as quickly as possible.

Wondering what had upset him so, Mercedes looked behind her and further down the hall she saw the stocky figure of Noah Puckerman, Kurt's ex-boyfriend, leaning into the giggling, smiling, curvaceous body of Quinn Fabray. Puck was twirling his finger around Quinn's hair, stealing kisses from her pouty lips, sending her into fits of laughter as she half-heartedly pushed him away, which seemed to only draw him closer. Mercedes pursed her lips in anger, silently contemplating whether or not killing the mohawked boy was worth ruining her new Nikes.

_**Finally I can see you crystal clear…**_

Kurt lifted his sunglasses from his face and stared into mirror of the girls' bathroom where he had sought refuge from the cornea-burning images that he'd witnessed in the halls only minutes ago. He'd gone clear across campus to the science wing, knowing his class wasn't anywhere near there but not caring. All he cared about was putting as much distance between himself and his ex as possible. Ex. That sounded so weird in his head. Ex. "Ex," he said, watching his reflection as his lips formed the word. "Ex." It sounded even weirder out loud.

But then again their entire situation was weird. Kurt and Puck had been going out for months, and he still hadn't seen it coming. Puck was Kurt's first boyfriend, his first sexual partner, the first person he'd said "I love you," to, and Kurt was in turn all these firsts for Puck as well. Puck even came out as bisexual to the glee club and then the entire school, dealing with all the taunting and teasings that came along with it, dodging slushies and punches and throwing a few of his own as well. However, fighting bullies was like child's play compared to meeting Kurt's dad. Burt Hummel didn't really seem like the scary type at first, but if given the right setting and the wrong situation Burt could strike fear into the heart of any badass. When Puck first met him he had to practically tie a string around his dick for fear of wetting himself. But once he got Burt's blessing he started viewing the man as a (somewhat frightening) father figure.

So after all those hoops had been jumped through it came as a shock to Kurt when last week, on a rainy Thursday night, Noah (as he'd come to affectionately call him) crawled into Kurt's basement bedroom and unceremoniously announced, after a very passionate kiss from Kurt, that they were through. Or as he put it, "So, I think I'm gonna have to break up with you." Confused, shocked, upset; these are all words that described Kurt's state of mind after hearing Puck's news. Stunned into silence he sat wordlessly as Puck said he'd found someone else and didn't feel good about keeping it from Kurt. He admitted to kissing and getting a little under-the-sweater action from this girl ('_girl?_'_, _Kurt thought) but he swore up and down that nothing else had happened. So after ten minutes of explanation Puck left, announcing he had a date with her at eight.

Kurt didn't believe it. He thought it was a nightmare. Waking up the next morning he wasn't sad or depressed or angry. He was hopeful. 'He'll come back', he thought. 'He just needs to wander a little bit. Give him time and he'll come running back. He'll miss what we had.' Puck ignored him at school that day, and Kurt did the same as well, thinking all the while that Puck was just trying to make him jealous, trying to elicit a response from the usually icy diva. 'Let him wait,' Kurt thought. 'He'll break before I'll ever go crawling back to him.' So it was with great sadness that Kurt saw Puck meet up with Quinn in the parking lot at the end of school. No one else saw them, and if they did they paid them no great deal of attention. No one else saw Puck's arm draped over Quinn's shoulder, or Puck hold the door open for her, or the thousand watt smile on Puck's face as Quinn leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek as they drove off together. No one saw it but Kurt. It was then that the hope he'd been clinging to all day shattered into a million little pieces.

He spent the entire weekend holed up in his room, a rotation of Burt, Carole, Finn, and Rachel trying to rouse him from bed and cheer him up. He wanted to call Mercedes or Tina, but what could he tell them? That he'd been dumped? That the first and so far only boy he'd ever loved had left him for a cheerleader, the corpse of their relationship not even cold as he paraded her around town? He was too embarrassed to tell them anything, deciding to let Rachel inform them and spare him from admitting the humiliating details.

The weekend passed and he never left his bed. Finn slept with him to keep him company, though really he was making sure his little brother didn't do something harmful to himself in his depression. When Monday morning came around he had no desire to go to school, but Burt reminded him that it wasn't the end of the world, and that he shouldn't let a boy get the best of him. "Nobody pushes the Hummels around," he'd said. What Burt couldn't understand, what Kurt couldn't even convey into words, was that it was the end of the world. It was the end of _his_ world. What was life like after being with Noah Puckerman? Kurt didn't want to find out. And seeing Puck with Quinn this morning…well that had been like taking a bullet.

"It's nice to see your flair for the dramatic hasn't taken a hit in this trying time," he whispered to his reflection. He smirked, trying to cheer himself up in spite of the past few days. While rummaging in his bag for his Visine to get the red out of his puffy eyes he heard a toilet flush and saw a stall door open. Santana strolled up to the sink next to his, washing her hands clean and glaring at him disapprovingly.

"God Hummel, you look like shit." She flicked the droplets of water from her hands as she grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. "And you're talking to yourself. How soon before I see you on the street offering blowjobs for spare change?"

"Oh, Lopez, I'd be more inclined to exchange witty comebacks with you if I didn't spy a pregnancy test peeking out of the back pocket of your last season flea market jeans," Kurt quipped, dabbing at the puffy bags under his eyes with a tissue he had run under the cold water.

"What? This?" Santana asked as she whipped out the small device, setting it to rest on the lip of the sink. "Just doing my monthly check-up, wondering if I can audition for _16 and Pregnant_."

"And…?" Kurt asked, wondering about the results.

"The world is safe from a Santana, Jr. for now," she announced as she launched the pregnancy test in the air, smiling as it landed in the trash with a thud. "What about you?"

"I know you slept your way to an A in Biology, so I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm a boy, so I can't get pregnant, no matter how hard I try," Kurt said, finally finding the eye drops within the deep recesses of his Marc Jacobs messenger bag.

"Yeah but now that Puck dumped you the only thing you have to worry about impregnating is your fist," Santana said as she leaned cockily on the counter of the sink. Kurt shot her a hurtful glare before turning back to his mirror and applying the Visine.

"I trust Rachel's told you the happy news, then," Kurt said, blinking away the eye drops, hoping it relieved the redness in his eyes.

"Please, I avoid talking to Rachel just like any normal human being with functioning ears," Santana scoffed. "I saw that sexually confused mohawk and Miss Teen Pregnancy working on forming a new strain of oral herpes behind the football field."

Hearing about Puck with Quinn stung Kurt a little. He fluttered his eyelids again, blinking away what now had to be mostly tears rather than eye drops. He was surprised when Santana handed him a tissue, though she was looking away when she did.

Blotting his eyes and wiping his nose Kurt felt a little embarrassed crying in front of the Latina, but he was surprised when she placed her hand her hand on his shoulder. Though he was sure she meant it as a comforting gesture, the way she was rubbing his shoulder felt more like she was wiping gum off her palm. After a few seconds he saw her roll her eyes in the mirror and snap her hand back to her side. "Can you stop that now? I don't really know how to act when people get all weepy in front of me," she said uncomfortably.

"I always imagined you delighted in the tears of others," Kurt sniffled, shooting her a grateful smile.

"Not everyone," Santana shot back, "just those of little children." She handed Kurt another tissue and turned to fix her hair in the mirror, careful to avoid the strategically placed razors concealed within.

"Let's go," Santana said, grabbing her purse and walking towards the bathroom door.

"What?" Kurt asked, still dabbing at his eyes.

"I don't know about you but I'm over school for the day," Santana said, holding the door open. "Let's kick this bitch."

"It's only first period," Kurt said. "And we haven't even been to a class yet."

"Look, if we leave now, we can get to the Lima Bean while this guy I know is still working the register and he can hook us up with some free drinks," Santana said impatiently. "You wanna go or not?"

Kurt deliberated for a good minute and a half before he relented. "Fine," he said. "But only for the free drinks."

"Whatever," she said as she waited for Kurt to pass through the door before following him out as well. "If I were you I'd order a cold drink, if only for the fact that it comes with a straw and now that Puck's out of the picture your sucking skills could use some exercise."

Wondering why the hell he was ditching school with Santana, Kurt strode toward the parking lot hoping they didn't kill each other before the day was through.

_**See how I'll leave with every piece of you…**_

"These éclairs are crazy sexual," Santana said, examining the long dessert in her hands. "Do you think they have a giant army of pastry dough men in the back and they just cut off one of their dicks and cover it in icing whenever someone orders these?"

"I think you've been hanging out with Brittany too much," Kurt said as he stirred some non-dairy creamer into his coffee. Once he had it to his liking he didn't even raise the drink to his lips, instead pushing it away from him and staring at it forlornly.

"What's wrong? Your coffee not gay enough?" Santana asked as she sucked the cream from her éclair.

"No, it's just…" Kurt began. He fiddled with the protective sleeve of the coffee cup before mumbling, "whenever I'd be done stirring my coffee Noah would take it from me and drink some, and then he'd pour a little of his hot chocolate into my cup because he'd say - ," and here Kurt's voice waivered a bit as he had to choke back a sob, "he'd say someone as sweet as me shouldn't drink something so bitter," Kurt remembered with a smile. "I guess I got used to it and I just realized…that's never going to happen again."

Santana cocked her eyebrow when Kurt's eyes began to glisten with tears. When a stray one fell she shoved a napkin at him and hissed for him to stop.

"Okay, you're gonna need to man up real quick, Hummel," she said, looking around to make sure no one she knew saw her with such a weakling. "First of all, while you were describing that story to me, I'm pretty sure I heard your testicles get sucked up into your body to make way for the vagina God forgot to give you when you were born. Second of all, you need to get over him."

"It's only been a few days," Kurt said as he dabbed at his eyes with the napkin. "According to _Sex and the City _it takes exactly half the amount of time of the relationship to get over the breakup."

Santana blinked and held her mouth open in disbelief. "How in the hell have the people in this town let you say things like, 'According to _Sex and the City_' and still live?"

"Noah's been really protective of me, and now that he's gone I – I don't know what I'm going to do," Kurt said with a sigh. "I'll probably end up gang-raped in the middle of the football field."

"If that does ever happen, you should totally let Jodie Foster play you in the movie version," Santana said as she stuffed the éclair down her throat. "Oh my God. Okay, I'm going to need the rest of this pastry dough man because if his dick tastes this good imagine what the rest of him tastes like."

"Would you like a room?" Kurt asked, wounded that Santana wasn't taking his problems seriously. She eyed Kurt and took another few bites of her dessert before setting it down.

"You know that we would never let anything bad happen to you," Santana said. "And neither would Puck, no matter what your guys' current relationship status is. And you have got to get over him. I mean, yeah he's hot, but believe me when I say there are plenty more fish in the sea."

"And how many of them are gay?" Kurt asked, his arms crossed.

"Who knows?" Santana said. "I mean, who knew Puck liked to suck on a skin-lollipop just as much as he liked to munch on hair pie?"

"I don't know what it is about you but every time we talk I feel like throwing up a little bit," Kurt said.

"Look, you can sit here and cry about how Puck won't be there to pour hot chocolate in your coffee anymore, boo-freaking-hoo," Santana said, "or you can focus all that energy on getting back at that loser."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, unsure of where Santana was going with this.

"That asshole cheated on you, dumped you, and now he's flaunting his new inflatable girlfriend right in front of your face, and you're not angry?" Santana said disbelievingly. "I don't know what part of town you grew up in, _pero_ _mijo, en _Lima Heights, we don't take that shit lying down."

"What are you saying, you want me to power drop him over a fire hydrant and sever his spine so he can't walk again?" Kurt asked rhetorically. Santana arched an eyebrow at him, a smile playing at her lips.

"And where did you learn that little move?" she inquired.

"I may have been forced to sit through a viewing of _Blood In, Blood Out_ with Finn and the other boys when I had absolutely nothing else to do," Kurt smirked.

"I knew I liked you, Hummel," she said as she sipped her drink. "And no, I'm not suggesting bodily harm…well, at least not _permanent_ bodily harm. But yeah, cold, harsh payback."

"That's not really my style," Kurt said uncomfortably. "I'm much more the type to sit and cry and listen to old breakup songs in the dark until I recover from the breakup."

"Well that's just stupid," Santana scoffed. "Getting revenge is so much more…cathartic. You work out your anger at Puck and you get over him that much faster. And hey, if you make his life a living hell, well, it's not like he doesn't deserve it."

"I don't know," Kurt said. "I'm not really good at causing people pain. I'm not you, Santana. I mean, yes I can throw a barbed insult about someone's lack of fashion sense, but I can't go around ruining their lives."

"Don't think of it as ruining their life, think of it as making yours better," Santana stated simply.

"I don't think so," Kurt said with finality.

"Oh fuck, do I have to do everything around here?" Santana cried. She rose from her seat and made for the exit, yelling for Kurt to follow if he wanted a ride back to school despite the fact that he'd driven them.

_**Don't underestimate the things that I will do…**_

"Santana!" Kurt hissed, trying to get the girl to stop despite being weighed down with their various purchases from the hardware store. "Santana!" he hissed again, afraid to raise his voice too loudly as class was in session and he didn't want to get in trouble from any of the teachers.

"234…257…ah, here we go," Santana said. "Locker 275. I trust you know whose locker this is, right?"

"Of course, that's – that's Noah's locker," Kurt said, his arms still full with what Santana had called 'payback necessities'.

"Gold star for the gay boy," Santana said, slapping Kurt on the shoulder. "And do you know why we're here?"

"I know it can't be anything good," Kurt said.

"Shut up," Santana said. She reached into a bag Kurt was carrying from the hardware store and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters. With them she cut the combination lock to Puck's locker, opening it and searching inside.

"Damn. This bitch has nothing of value in here," she said as she rummaged through his various books and belongings. "Although he does have a fair amount of hair scrunchies in here. I'm guessing they don't belong to you?"

"No," Kurt said bitterly, knowing full well they must belong to Quinn.

"Oh well, that should just make us feel less guilty for what we're about to do," Santana said simply.

"What _are_ we about to do?" Kurt asked. He gasped when Santana pulled out the lighter fluid from the bag and popped the top open, indiscriminately spraying the sweet smelling liquid all over the inside of Puck's locker, joy splashed across her face.

"What are you doing?" Kurt yelled a little louder than he meant to. He grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Okay, so did you seriously not know what I had in mind when we bought all this stuff at the hardware store?" she asked, a little mad that her fun had been stopped.

"I don't know!" Kurt exclaimed. "I didn't think it involved this!"

"What did you think?" Santana asked.

"Well, I thought we'd burn all the gifts and things he'd given to me in effigy," Kurt said, "sort of like giving them back to the universe as a thank you for the time it gave me with Noah."

Santana stared him down and shoved the bottle of lighter fluid into his chest. "'A thank you for the time it gave me with Noah?' You are so lucky you have me around." Reaching into her pocket she brought out a pack of matches, pulled one out, and handed that and the matchbox to Kurt.

"Go on," she said encouragingly.

"I can't," he squeaked, nervously shoving the matches back to Santana. She rolled her eyes and pushed them back to Kurt.

"You can," she reminded him. "Just think of all the ways he hurt you. The anniversaries he forgot, the dates he skipped to hang out with Finn, his cheating, the way he dumped you," she said, grabbing one of Quinn's hair scrunchies from Puck's locker and waving it in front of Kurt hypnotically before tossing it back in. "Now ball all of those things up in your fist with that match, drag it across that little strip there to light that bitch up, and throw it in his locker," she exclaimed. "And watch as all those things burn away," she whispered into his ear.

Something snapped within Kurt. Santana was right. All the bad things Noah had done while they were together came flooding back to Kurt in a wave of anger, and that coupled with their recent breakup and the still raw wound to his heart gave Kurt the strength and stupidity he needed to light the match and flick it into Puck's locker. The flames danced before his eyes, beautiful and dangerous, and he heard a triumphant whoop from Santana before he felt her dragging him away from the scene, the fire alarm ringing in his ears as he heard Santana laughing in the distance. It wasn't until they were safely hidden behind the bleachers of the football field that Kurt realized, he was laughing too.

_**There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out of the dark…**_

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you liked it! I know I love a good revenge story about as much as anything else. **

**This story is a three parter. There's only two more chapters, and then it's over. And I've actually finished writing the other chapters so the whole story should be posted by the end of the week. I just have to polish and proof them, because no matter how many times I self-beta my stuff, I always see new mistakes.  
><strong>

**Anyways, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the lyrics to Rolling in the Deep.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_**Think of me in the depths of your despair…**_

Setting fire to Puck's locker was fun, Kurt had to admit, but once he and Santana had found sanctuary behind the bleachers his fun soured and he immediately regretted behaving so childishly. He even considered turning himself in; that is, until he saw Puck that afternoon in Glee Club.

Puck stalked in, fuming, violently rolling Artie out of his way and scaring even Mr. Schue. He swore angrily, rubbing his mohawk and gritting his teeth anxiously. No one had to ask why. The entire school knew Puck's locker had been set ablaze; what they didn't know was who was responsible for it. Blame shifted from Jacob Ben Israel and the other nerds, their reason being payback for all Puck's past bullying, to the jocks, whom some said still weren't over Puck getting together with Kurt, to even Puck himself, people saying he'd lit it intentionally to restore his badass reputation.

Puck sat agitatedly in Glee Club waiting for Mr. Schue to start the lesson, Kurt contemplating whether or not to come clean to his ex, when in strode Quinn. Just her presence seemed to calm Puck, and when she sat down next to him, softly stroking his hand and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, he relaxed completely and a dopey smile stretched across his face, making everyone wonder what kind of spell the blonde girl had on him. Everyone except Kurt, whose thoughts of confessing his pyromania to Puck were dashed once he saw Quinn's effect on him. In an instant he no longer wanted to apologize to Puck; instead he wanted to see everything he loved turn to dust.

All the girls except Santana seemed oblivious to Kurt's anger. Instead they treated him as a fragile object, something that might crack if taken too close to the burning heat of Puck. They formed a protective circle around him when they practiced their choreography, Tina and Mercedes doing their best to occupy his thoughts and cheer him up while Brittany, Santana, Rachel and Lauren did their best to block Puck and Quinn from his view. He knew what they were doing and he was grateful, but it didn't stop him from stealing glimpses at the nauseatingly happy couple, each glance a small reminder of what they used to have together.

When Glee Club ended Kurt turned down the girls' repeated offers to go to the mall or movies or one of their houses, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up in a ball in his bed, never to face the world again. He'd barely gotten himself situated in his car when a clawed hand sprung from his back seat and grabbed him by the throat, making him scream. Hearing laughter he turned around and realized what he'd mistaken for claws were actually nails, and the hand belonged to none other than Santana.

"What in the holy name of Karl Lagerfeld are you doing in my car!" Kurt screamed breathlessly, his heart still racing from fright. "You scared me half to death!"

"Oh, you gays are always so easily frightened," Santana said nonchalantly, climbing from the back over the middle console and settling herself in the passenger seat. "So, where we going?"

"I'm going home," Kurt said. "And unless you want someone to pick you up from my house you're getting out of my car."

"Geez, Hummel, lighten up, will you?" Santana said fiddling with his iPod, looking for a song that wasn't from a Broadway musical or sung by Lady Gaga. Deciding it'd be best to play her own music, she took out her own iPod and plugged it in, letting Alanis Morisette fill the car as she spoke. "I mean where are we going on our next stop for 'Operation Revenge on the Puckerman'?"

"That's not a real thing," Kurt said irritated. "And I'm not doing that anymore. I already feel bad enough for setting fire to his locker. I can't fathom doing something else, especially if it might cause him more harm."

"You're just feeling guilty," Santana said casually. "Everyone feels that after their first bad deed. Give it some time and it'll pass."

"I don't want to hurt Noa - Puck anymore," Kurt said, forgetting to call him by his nickname as his proper name hurt too much to utter.

"Yes you do," Santana said, not even bothering to look up from where she was filing her nails.

"No, I don't," Kurt assured her.

"Yes, you do," she said again, holding her hand out to examine her nail length. "I saw how happy you were when you saw how mad he was. And then when Quinn came in I could practically feel you murdering her and him with your eyes. You want to make him pay. Maybe not like with a baseball bat to the knee, but you want him to feel the same way you feel. You want him to hurt," she said with a smile.

"I…" Kurt couldn't even finish his sentence. Truth was, he was still angry. Burning Puck's locker did take some of his hurt away, but there was still plenty more to spread around. And this first vengeful thing was like a gateway drug; it made it easier for Kurt to agree with Santana now when she suggested more payback for Puck.

"Shh," Santana said comfortingly, seeing the vengeful look cross Kurt's face. She knew the hate boiling inside him was ready to spill over, and all she had to do was direct that hate towards something that could be used constructively against Puck; or in their case, destructively. "It's alright. You don't even have to say it. Just drive."

"Where?" Kurt asked breathlessly.

"I think you know where," Santana said, leaning back and mentally patting herself on the back for dragging Kurt to the dark side.

_**The scars of your love remind me of us…**_

Letting himself into Puck's house was a little unnerving. He knew where the spare key was hidden, and he didn't sense anyone was home, but he still found himself tip-toeing across the hardwood floors of Puck's home. He'd let himself in countless times before, sometimes to surprise Puck by stripping down so he met a nude Kurt when he came home, and other times because Puck was running late somewhere and told him to just wait inside. But now, entering without the knowledge of either Puck or his mother made Kurt feel all the more guilty.

"I can't do this," Kurt said, turning around and heading to the front door. "This is breaking and entering and I just cannot go to jail. Those hideous orange jumpsuits would clash with my pale skin tone. I'll look like I have jaundice or something." Santana grabbed him by the arm and spun him back around.

"We're already in," Santana hissed, pushing him forward. They climbed the stairs, Santana prodding him forward with sharp pokes to his back. They didn't know when Puck or his mother or sister could come home, and despite ignoring his worrying Santana had to admit Kurt was right, they did not want to get caught breaking into someone else's house.

Once they reached Puck's room they spread out, looking for anything they could use as ammo against the mohawked boy. Kurt's careful eyes scanned the mess, looking through piles of discarded clothes, clean and dirty alike tossed together, searching for anything to aid them in his quest for vengeance. He sighed. They'd been going out for nearly six months and it didn't matter how many times Kurt tidied up after his boyfriend, his room always reverted to its seemingly innate messiness.

Shifting though another pile of clothes consisting of Puck's dirty sports uniforms and workout clothes proved fruitless to Kurt. He got up and crossed the room to the closet, rummaging around in there before his eyes caught something. Deep in the back, underneath some of Puck's old leather jackets and textbooks he'd never returned was a box. Opening it Kurt found a few items that he and Puck had used in bed: a spiked collar, a few dildos, butt plugs of differing sizes, a couple vibrators and cock rings, and something that Kurt forgot had existed. He smirked to himself, feeling as if he'd won the lottery now that he had something that could cause Puck great damage. Picking it up and putting it into his pocket Kurt wondered if using it would be taking things too far with Puck. Realizing Puck had taken things too far by dumping him, Kurt threw the momentary thought of compassion aside. Wondering if Santana found anything he turned to find her counting a small wad of bills she'd collected off of Puck's desk. Feeling Kurt's judgmental eyes on her she turned to him.

"What?" she asked rudely. "First arson, then breaking and entering, is it really so difficult to believe that I would make the leap to theft?"

"Put it back," Kurt commanded.

"But – ," Santana began.

"Now," he hissed.

"Fine," she said, stuffing the money back into a drawer of Puck's desk. Just as she slammed the drawer shut they both heard the front door slam, followed by the unmistakable sound of shoes stomping along the floor. Kurt whimpered in fright. Holding her finger up to silence Kurt, she strained her ears listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Hearing the TV turn on they both sighed in relief, ready to climb out the window and run down to Kurt's car. Just as they were heading to the window sill, however, they heard footsteps climbing up the stairs. Panicking, knowing it was too late to escape, the pair fell to their stomachs, pulling themselves under Puck's bed, squeezing together as tightly as possible in the hope that no one would see them.

Hearing the light step of shoes on the floor Kurt figured it was probably Quinn, meaning Puck must be downstairs looking for something to eat before he eventually came upstairs to join Quinn and…Kurt didn't even want to think about the dirty things they'd be doing on the bed where he'd lost his virginity.

The footsteps faded and they heard the gentle hum of the bathroom vent turn on. Figuring the coast was clear for their escape Santana rolled out from under the bed. Looking up she signaled Kurt to get up, too. As she was helping him up from the floor she dropped his hand, staring at the doorway. Kurt picked himself up and looked to where Santana was staring.

In the doorway was Puck's nine year old sister, Hannah, staring at them in wonder as they emerged from under Puck's bed before excitedly realizing who they were. Before she could scream in happiness Santana jumped over the bed and pulled her into the room, covering her mouth just as she yelled out Kurt's name in greeting. Closing the door she gently told Hannah to calm down.

Removing her hand Santana allowed Hannah to talk. "Eww, Tana, your hand tastes like dust," Hannah said, sticking her tongue out and wiping it on her sleeve.

"Sorry, kid. We thought you were your brother," Santana said, wiping her dusty hands on Puck's bed sheets. "He's not with you is he?"

"No, Noah didn't pick me up and Mom's pissed," Hannah said, her language evidence of her brother's bad influence on her. "Hi, Kurt!" Hannah said, launching herself toward the countertenor in a hug.

"Hey, sweetie," Kurt said, hugging her back. Now that he and Puck were no longer together he figured he would see less of Hannah, which was a shame as the two had become very attached to each other during these past few months. It hadn't dawned on him until now that breaking up with Puck meant breaking up with everything Puck-related, including his family.

"Are you here to surprise Noah like last time?" Hannah asked, referring to the time Kurt broke in to prepare dinner for Puck on their four month anniversary. "I can help you cook. Mom taught me how to make kugel and only some of it burnt!"

"No, no Hannie," Kurt said, kneeling so that he was eye level with the little girl. "Actually me and Santana were just here to look for something in Noah's room."

"Can I help you find it?" she asked, determined to help. "I got a magnifying glass and some gloves so we don't have to touch any of Noah's smelly clothes."

"No, sweetie, that's okay, we found it," Kurt said, ignoring Santana's questioning looks. He'd explain it to her later. "Now, I want you to listen to me," he said seriously. "I don't want you to let anyone know we were here."

"No one?" she asked. "Not even Noah?"

"Especially Noah," Kurt said, holding her around the waist so she would stop fidgeting. She was uncomfortable lying to her brother, and having Kurt be the one to make her promise to lie to him made her feel all the more conflicted. "Can you do that for me?"

"Why?" Hannah asked, avoiding Kurt's gaze and instead toying with the buttons on his jacket.

"Well, Noah and I - ," he began, prepared to go into full detail about their messy breakup.

"Oh, Christ," Santana huffed. "Look, Hanns, here's a ten. Now you didn't see either me or Kurt here, did you?" Hannah accepted the bribe and shook her head 'No'. "Good girl," Santana said, petting her on the head. Seeing Kurt's glare she shrugged, "You just have to know how to deal with kids."

Hearing someone, probably Puck's mom, climbing the stairs, Kurt placed a quick kiss on Hannah's cheek before following Santana out the window. Just as he climbed out he heard the door to Puck's room squeak open. Clutching the trellis attached to the side of the house he listened through the open window as Miriam Puckerman interrogated her daughter.

"Hannah, who were you talking to?" she asked.

"No one," Hannah said innocently.

"I thought I heard voices. Are you sure there's no one up here with you?" Miriam asked again.

"No," Hannah said with what Kurt knew was a signature Puckerman smile.

"Okay," Miriam said, seemingly satisfied with her daughter's answers. "Go do your homework. And stop playing in your brother's room," she scolded.

"Okay," he heard her say before she ran downstairs to do the opposite of what her mother said and watch cartoons. She really was Puck's sister.

"Psst," Santana called out to him from the ground. "Get down," she whispered as loudly as she could.

Maneuvering his way down to Santana's side effortlessly, as this was not his first time climbing down the side of Puck's house, he ran with her to his car, which they'd parked out of sight further down the street.

Pulling from his pocket what he'd retrieved from Puck's sex box Santana asked, "Eww. What do you plan on doing with that?"

"Let's just say that by tomorrow everyone will have seen a side of Puck they never knew existed," Kurt said with an evil grin.

"What a coincidence," she said with a smirk. "You took something, and I left something."

"What?" Kurt asked surprised, though he shouldn't have been because it was just like Santana to go rogue. "What did you do?"

"You'll see," she said with a chuckle.

"I thought I was supposed to be the one getting revenge," Kurt said with a smile as he drove away from Puck's house.

"You are," Santana reassured him. "For you, this is personal. For me, it's just fucking fun," she laughed, rolling her window down and letting the wind whip her hair around joyously.

_**You're gonna wish you never had met me…**_

The loud beeping of his alarm awoke Kurt the next morning. Without even opening his eyes he rolled over to shut it off when his body collided with a much thicker, longer body, snoring and taking up more than half the bed. Wrenching his eye open he was met with the sight of his stepbrother sleeping next to him, the blaring alarm not bothering him in the least. Kurt stretched over Finn to turn the alarm off, carefully avoiding a suspicious looking tent that was pitched between the tall boy's legs. In the past Kurt would have giddily accepted Finn sleeping next to him, and may have even peeked under the sheet to spy on his morning wood, but living together and being constantly referred to as 'brothers' killed any feelings Kurt harbored for Finn. Now Kurt just saw him as his annoying older brother who was too overprotective, needed constant supervision when their parents weren't around, and needed way too much help on his homework.

"Finn," Kurt said, shaking the other boy awake. Though it'd been nearly four days since Puck broke up with him, and Burt said he didn't have to anymore, Finn still took upon himself to sleep with Kurt for fear the countertenor might harm himself. In times like this Kurt really regretted making Finn watch _Prayers for Bobby_ with him.

"Finn," Kurt said again when the snoring teen refused to wake. "Finn, Rachel's making pancakes," Kurt whispered into his ear. Finn sprung up, his eyes still closed, holding his hands out and asking his invisible waitress for more syrup. Kurt sat up and hit him over the head with a pillow, sending Finn back lying down.

"I told you never to joke about breakfast," Finn said, the pillow muffling his words.

"Get up," Kurt said, removing the pillow from his brother's face. "And I told you to stop sleeping with me."

"What if something happened to you?" Finn said, worriedly. "It'd really freak me out if you…hurt yourself, and I weren't there to stop you." Kurt did the best to smooth his messy bed hair before rolling his eyes at his brother's anxiety.

"First of all, I told you never to speak to me in the morning until you've brushed your teeth and rinsed twice with Listerine," Kurt warned. "Secondly, I'm fine. Puck and I broke up. It happens. I'm learning to get over it."

"With Santana's help?" Finn asked. "Where did you guys go after Glee Club yesterday anyway?"

"Nowhere," Kurt said hurriedly. He was lying to cover their tracks. In truth, after Puck's house he and Santana went on another supply run, first to the supermarket and then again to the hardware store and a quick stop at his dad's shop after he was sure his father had gone home already.

"I don't believe you. It's weird seeing you two together. It makes me really specious," Finn declared.

"Suspicious," Kurt corrected.

"Yeah, that," Finn said.

"Don't worry about it, Finn. Santana's just helping me get through this. She's been really great, actually," Kurt said, amazed at the words coming from his mouth.

"The only thing Santana's great at is hurting people," Finn said off-handedly. Seeing Kurt's eyes widen, realizing he'd hit upon something, Finn gasped. "Did you two have anything to do with Puck's locker being set on fire yesterday?"

"No!" Kurt exclaimed. His readiness to feign innocence wasn't lost on Finn.

"You did!" Finn nearly screamed. "You two set his locker on fire!" he said loudly in excitement, rising from the bed in his righteousness.

"Shut up, you oaf," Kurt said, pulling Finn back down and clamping his hand over his mouth. "If Santana and I had anything to do with Puck's indoor barbecue, and I'm not saying we did, but _if_ we did, you wouldn't be able to say anything about it." Seeing Finn's confused expression Kurt continued, "Because if you say anything I'm going to tell Rachel that you don't have to go to Canada next month and you'd be happy to join her in the community theater's production of _You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown_."

"You wouldn't," Finn said once Kurt removed his hand from his mouth.

"Try me, Hudson," Kurt said with the utmost seriousness.

"Fine," Finn agreed. "I wasn't going to tell anyone anyway. I was just going to say that having Santana help you get over Puck is really stupid, and that's saying a lot coming from me."

Kurt mulled over Finn's advice before deciding to ignore it. "Santana is helping me get over the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with, barring my mother's untimely demise. And I feel better whenever we talk."

"Dude, you can talk to me," Finn pouted.

"_Dude_," Kurt said patronizingly, "unless I'm talking about boobs or food or video games you completely tune me out."

"What was that?" Finn asked. Kurt smacked him again with a pillow.

"I was kidding," came Finn's muffled voice from under the pillow. Picking it off of himself he said, "And I get this is hard for you, but do you really have to go around ruining Puck's life?"

"You remember how mad you were when you found out Quinn's baby wasn't yours and Puck was the father and they'd both been lying to you all along?" Kurt asked.

"That was different," Finn said, shucking off Kurt's comparison. Seeing the death glare Kurt was sending him made him rethink his position. "I mean, yeah, it was equally douchey of him, but with me, they were cheating. They had sex. With you, it was just a few lousy kisses. And at least he had the balls to tell you, not like parading it around behind your back so everyone knew but you."

"I don't care if it was just a few kisses and if he told me instead of lying. He broke my heart!" Kurt said, tears stinging his eyes. "He deserves whatever's coming to him."

Pulling him down into a crushing hug Finn sighed as Kurt cried softly into his chest, dampening his shirt considerably with his tears. Getting up, wiping his eyes, and hitting Finn for making him cry so early in the morning, Kurt thanked his brother before leaving for the restroom.

"Just promise me Puck will be alive when you're through with him," Finn called out to Kurt. "Not that I care about him or anything, but we need him for Regionals."

"I promise nothing," Kurt said, shutting the door to the bathroom.

_**Tears are gonna fall…**_

Noah Puckerman was not having a good morning.

First, his sister woke him up by jumping on his bed; something he wasn't unaccustomed to, but the brat interrupted a particularly hot dream involving him and that hot chick who used to be the lead singer for the Pussycat Dolls. Not only that, but he overslept and didn't have enough time to deal with his aching boner in the shower, rushing through his morning routine and dropping his sister off at school before finally arriving at McKinley High.

He'd barely gotten out of his truck when he got a mysterious phone call on his cell from an unknown number. Answering it he was greeted by a gruff voice, asking if he was the guy from the ad. Not knowing what he was talking about, the guy clarified that there was an ad in Craigslist for a casual encounter and this was the number posted. Saying he got the wrong number Puck hung up the phone, sauntering into school.

Well, he _tried_ to saunter. Normally he would've strutted into school like he owned the place, but there was this weird itching feeling in his crotch. It had been bothering him all morning, and he'd chalked it up to not getting to release the contents of his overly-blue balls, but it was itching way too much and couldn't just be because he didn't cum. He tried scratching at it as walked, casually rubbing his bulge in case someone was looking, but it did nothing to relieve the itch. In fact, not getting to scratch at it only made it itch worse. He scratched at it through his jeans, but when that didn't abate the annoying tingling he stuck his whole hand down his pants in the middle of the hallway, scratching angrily as students stopped to stare.

"The fuck you all looking at?" he screamed, his hand still buried in his pants.

"What's going on here?" came the demanding voice of Sue Sylvester. "Future trailer trash, what do you think you're doing?"

Puck couldn't reply, focusing instead on the itch that would not go away.

"Take your sexual depravity back to the choir room where it belongs," Sue sneered at him. "And the rest of you Play-Doh lumps, get to class before I string you all up by your thumbs and install chastity devices on your microscopic genitalia so none of you can procreate and infect the world with your loser offspring!" she screamed to the crowd of students watching Puck. "And don't think I won't alert Figgins to your disgusting act of debauchery," she said threateningly.

The crowd dispersed, Sue shooing them away with more threats. Puck cursed silently to himself; the last thing he needed was a trip to the principal's office so soon after being released from juvie. Not looking forward to another meeting with Figgins and hoping Mr. Schue could bail him out again, Puck ran into the nearest bathroom in an attempt to quell the itching.

"You didn't give him crabs, did you?" Kurt asked Santana. The two had made it a point to arrive early to school, each wanting front row seats to the day that would probably leave Puck a shell of his former self.

"No," Santana said, a little offended Kurt would think she would have access to a venereal disease at the drop of a hat like that. "It's itching powder."

"Itching powder?" Kurt asked. "Is that what you 'left' at his house yesterday."

"Yup, all over the inside of his jeans. It's my own special recipe, too. Extra cayenne pepper," she said deviously. "Unless he's bathing in milk in there that shit's going to stay on him all day."

"You're evil," Kurt said with a grin. The two gave each other a quick high five before separating and moving on to Phase 2 of 'Operation Revenge on the Puckerman'.

_**Rolling in the deep…**_

"Fuck!" Puck screamed at the top of his lungs. The word echoed around the bathroom, scaring a few freshmen out of the stalls. In his haste to relieve the burning itch Puck had thrown water on his crotch. It had eased the annoying prickling for a few minutes, but it came back and now he'd made it look as if he'd pissed himself. He grabbed a handful of paper towels to try and dry his pants but the dark blue stain stood out in his denim jeans.

Swearing some more, Puck stalked off to the boy's locker room, eager to rid himself of his pants. Along the way a few students saw him in his ruined jeans, most of them snickering at the once bullying teen's current predicament. Puck took it all in stride, his jaw clenched tightly to their laughs, until Jacob Ben Israel came along with another AV geek and videotaped him walking down the halls. After a few minutes Jacob hastily uploaded the video to his blog and before Puck even got to the locker room the nickname "Triple P" (for 'Puck's pee pants') had already begun to reach his ears.

Ripping open the door to his locker he reached inside, hoping to find an extra pair of sweat pants or maybe miraculously a new pair of jeans. Instead what he withdrew from his locker made him cringe in disgust. Tights. Ballet tights, probably, but dude, they were still tights. He rummaged around inside, trying to find the extra sweats he just knew had to be in there somewhere, but no, there was nothing but the tights. He looked at them warily before throwing them on the floor.

While he was wondering what the fuck was going on with this day so far his phone rang. Seeing it was another unknown number he answered it. Once again the caller was a man, only this one was more soft-spoken and timid when he addressed Puck.

"Is this the Puck from the ad?" the man asked.

"What ad?" Puck asked curiously, his patience wearing thin due to the morning's events.

"The ad on Craigslist, you know." Here the man's voice became deeper and more serious at the words he was saying. "The cumwhore who loves to suck and ride cock bareback? Only four dollars an hour?" he said, jittery with excitement.

"The fuck?" Puck screamed into the phone. Not even bothering to dignify the man with a response Puck hung up, resisting the urge to punch a locker in his rage. He had his suspicions that someone was fucking with him, what with his locker being set on fire yesterday, but Quinn convinced him it was nothing, just a random prank. But the tights in his locker and now these weird ass phone calls? No, someone was definitely messing with him.

His mind clouded with possibilities. There were way too many people who would love a chance to get back at him. Ignoring all possible leads for now, he rushed around the locker room, looking for anything else to wear besides the dreaded tights. Every other locker was locked, and he tried opening one of them but without tools it was a hopeless job. In his desperation he even considered wearing dirty gym clothes, no matter how foul smelling, but when he got to the laundry cart in the corner he found it empty, no clothing in sight.

At this point he had two options: go outside with his ruined pants, everyone pointing and laughing at him, or change into the tights and go outside in them, everyone still pointing and laughing at him. Seeing no way out of it, he figured he could throw his pants in the dryer in the back of the locker room and wear the tights while they dried. It's not like he'd go far across campus in them. He'd just be headed down the hall to meet Quinn. She'd already told him to meet her after class and he knew better than to piss her off. Besides, he was the Puckster. He could pull off wearing tights and make it look so badass that by tomorrow everyone would be wearing tights, too.

To say he overestimated his badassness would be an understatement.

Jacob Ben Israel was waiting outside the locker room, camera man in tow, when Puck emerged in his tights. Jacob took one look at the tall teen and announced to the camera, "Ladies and gentlemen, you saw it here first. Noah Puckerman is not only unable to control his bladder, he's also unable to control his love for women's clothing. Is this the first step to his transition from male to female?"

"What?" Puck screamed after hearing Jacob's false headline. "Dude, that's not even true."

"So Puck, when did you decide to become a woman?" Jacob asked, shoving his microphone in Puck's face.

"I'm not a tranny, you twerp," Puck said, shoving Jacob away. "These are just ballet tights because my pants got wet."

"With your own urine, we know," Jacob said. "Was it your dating of Kurt Hummel that led you to realize you were unhappy as a man?"

"I already told you, Ben Israel, I'm bi not transsexual," Puck said exasperated. "Now get out of my face, I'm gonna be late. And don't think I won't get you back in Hebrew school," Puck threatened as he walked away, the camera catching the way the tights clung to his ass and thighs almost femininely.

He had barely gone a few steps when he received yet another phone call from another unknown number. Answering it, not even waiting for the person on the other end to begin talking he screamed into the phone, "Whoever the fuck this is, leave me alone! I'm not a fucking prostitute looking for a good time, you sick fuck!"

The camera panned back to Jacob, who had a joyous look on his face as he realized the views he could get once this hit the internet. "There you have it, ladies and gentlemen," Jacob announced into the camera, "Noah Puckerman now 50% male, 50% female, and 100% gay."

Quinn gasped as she saw the live feed from Jacob's camera broadcasting into her Home Ec classroom. All the school TVs had caught Jacob's surprise interview of Puck, and since the teachers figured it would give them a few minutes without having to actually teach their no good students, they let the broadcast play. Kurt and Santana, who were also in the class with Quinn, sniggered into their oven mitts, each resisting the urge to laugh out loud as Noah Puckerman's life and reputation unraveled around him.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the lyrics to Rolling in the Deep. **

**A/N: **_Italics _= Kurt singing

_**The song Kurt sings (in case you live under a rock or something) is "Someone Like You" by Adele.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_**We could've had it all…**_

Kurt knew he should have felt bad for the way Puck's day was going but he didn't. He was having too much fun. Doing all those things to Puck and seeing the way his face reddened and scrunched up (kind of like when he came during sex, Kurt thought to himself) made Kurt giddy. And knowing Puck had no idea he was doing it felt like Kurt could do anything to him, even murder him, and no one would be the wiser.

He wasn't going to kill him, of course. Kill his day, maybe. And what a day it was turning out to be. After Puck had put his pants in the dryer Kurt snuck into the locker room and pulled them out, dumping them in a trashcan in the girl's bathroom so Puck would be stuck in the tights all day. The itching powder and tights were all Santana's idea, but Kurt was responsible for what happened afterwards.

Kurt knew all of Puck's weaknesses. It was hard not to, what with them going out for over six months and all. It was Kurt who knew Puck was secretly afraid of grasshoppers, so he made sure to stuff his backpack with them. Well, Kurt didn't actually put the bugs in; he got Sam to do it, convincing the slow blond that he was planning on setting them free after school. The mohawked teen was sent screaming down the halls when he opened his bag and instead of pulling out a book he was met with dozens of bugs jumping all over his body. The fact that he was still in tights and the screams emitted from his mouth were high pitched and feminine made the prank even funnier. Even though that had happened earlier in the day and the bugs had been rid of, Puck still had a nervous tick about that one, his body jerking as if he could still feel their little legs crawling over his skin, his face a mask of worry that one had clung to his clothing and would burrow into his body. Kurt smiled to himself as he saw Puck was unable to walk down the halls without feeling himself all over for bugs.

It was Kurt who knew that the real reason for Puck not liking bacon wasn't only because his family was kosher, but because when he was seven and sleeping over at Finn's house he ate a plate full of bacon for breakfast and ended up throwing it up all over the kitchen floor. To this day even the sight of bacon makes Puck gag. Kurt hesitated a little at first, not exactly eager to aid Puck's descent to Hell by making him break an important facet of his religion, but when he saw Quinn flounce in and give a quick kiss to Puck's cheek before sitting next to him Kurt saw red and threw all thoughts of backing out away. He made sure to switch Puck's lunch tray when he was deep in conversation with Quinn so that when Puck bit into his sandwich and felt the unmistakable crunch of bacon his throat nearly turned itself inside out. He spit it out casually into a napkin and hurriedly reached for his milk, gulping it down in mouthfuls. Kurt and Santana watched as Puck realized his milk had been tainted as well; looking into his milk box he spied little pieces of bacon floating in the white liquid. Puck spit out his drink, spraying the milk all over Quinn and drawing more attention to himself as he ran out of the cafeteria, his hands clasped around his mouths as the first wave of vomit spilled out. The students erupted into laughter, his tight clad legs making it all the funnier as he ran awkwardly to the nearest bathroom.

What was so great about those pranks was not only Puck's reaction, but the fact that Jacob had been there with his camera, recording each event in order to make Puck's humiliation more public. Kurt chuckled to himself, reveling in his ex-boyfriend's pain.

_**Rolling in the deep…**_

"Do you think Puck's going to like what we did to his truck?" Brittany asked excitedly. She, Santana, and Kurt were walking down the halls, making sure to blend in with the other student's who had just been released from class so no one knew they'd skipped. Kurt had timed it perfectly to where they could do what they needed to do to Puck's truck and then make it back inside as if they'd just gotten out of class.

"I think he's going to love it," Santana said, linking pinkies with Brittany. The clueless blonde smiled to herself, thinking she was actually doing Puck a favor.

Out of nowhere Kurt was pulled away from Santana and Brittany, hands dragging him away to the corner of the hall by the stairwell. Realizing it was Mercedes and Finn, Kurt relaxed, although Santana reminded him he had five minutes at the most if he wanted to see the meltdown in the parking lot.

"Dude, stop," Finn said.

Feigning ignorance Kurt replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Enough, Kurt," Mercedes said. "Finn told me all about your little payback plan and it's gotten way out of hand."

"Puck's going insane. He thinks he's being punished by God or something," Finn said.

"That's ridiculous," Kurt said, not at all interested with how Puck was feeling. "He'll get over it."

"Baby, you've got to stop this," Mercedes said, rubbing Kurt's arm gently. "Can't you see this is hurting you more than its hurting Puck?"

"What are you talking about?" Kurt asked. "These are just a couple harmless pranks. He'll be fine."

"And you?" Mercedes asked.

"I'm better than ever," Kurt said haughtily, crossing his arms in defiance. Finn and Mercedes eyed him skeptically.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment in the parking lot," Kurt said, brushing past his two friends and brusquely walking back down the hall with Santana and Brittany in tow.

He'd barely made it halfway down the hall before he was pulled into an empty classroom, Santana and Britney not even noticing. Surprised at yet another clandestine meeting he straightened his shirt before looking up, realizing it was none other than Quinn Fabray that had pulled him in for a little chat.

"What do you want?" Kurt asked, his voice dripping with disdain. He didn't feel the need to hide his contempt for the girl who had not only nearly ruined his stepbrother's life the previous year by making him support a child that wasn't his, but now felt it necessary to ruin his as well.

"I know what you're doing and I want you to stop it right now," Quinn demanded of him.

Dropping all pretense that he was innocent Kurt replied, "And why should I do anything you ask of me? You should just stay out of way and be thankful I haven't done anything to you."

"Look Kurt, I know you're more than a little mad at me, and you have every right to be - " she began.

"This is so not about you," Kurt said, cutting her off in his anger. "You took Noah from me, that's it. I'm not mad. If anything I should be thanking you."

"Thanking me?" Quinn asked.

"Yes," Kurt confirmed. "Thanking you for showing me how easily Noah can be tempted. I mean, if he can fall for you, what with your stretch marks and fondness for poly-cotton blends, then he obviously had a thing for gutter trash that I just could not satisfy," Kurt said, his arms crossed in anger.

Taken aback at being insulted so, Quinn said, "You know, I had every intention of coming in here and speaking to you like an adult, and showing you just how much you're hurting yourself as much as you're hurting Puck, but if you insist on behaving like a child I'll speak to you like one." At this she stepped closer to Kurt, her face inches from him, and said in a menacing voice, "Puck's mine, not yours. So stop with this stupid revenge plan you have going on, got it?"

Kurt, refusing to budge an inch, lifted his nose haughtily to her threat. "He's yours. I'm not fighting that, that's not up for deliberation. But how I deal with it, how I get over the consequences of your tendency to spread your legs in greeting the same way others hug or shake hands is _my_ business. Now stay out of my way before I drop a house on you, witch."

"Back off," Quinn spoke again, eyeing him threateningly.

"Fuck you," Kurt said slowly, meeting her eyes, the curse words he usually found so hard to mutter rolling off his tongue with the greatest of ease.

In a swirl of bottled blonde highlights and teeth too white to be natural Quinn was off, storming out of the room in anger, leaving Kurt fuming in his own rage. If ever he had doubts about this whole revenge thing, Quinn had just made sure he never had them again.

Santana opened the door to the classroom a minute after Quinn left. Peering inside she saw a visible shaking Kurt still clutching himself in his rage after his and Quinn's conversation.

"Yo, Hummel, we better get a move on if we want to get to the parking lot before Puck," Santana called out to him, breaking him from his reverie. Walking to the door she could see his furrowed brow and flaring nostrils. "You alright?" she asked.

"Never better," Kurt lied. "Let's get going." Linking arms with Santana and Brittany they strode off, ignoring the voice echoing in the back of his head that Quinn and Mercedes had said the same thing.

The three arrived at the parking lot just as a crowd of students was forming, the center being Puck's truck. Students were laughing and taking pictures of the vehicle just as Puck walked outside and cut through the fray.

He stood in shock as he took in the sight of his former truck. The tires had been removed and it had been placed atop cinder blocks. The back bed was a sea of blue, having been humorously filled with his own pants, each one of them clean and ready to wear, Puck saw excitedly, if only the crotches hadn't been cut out of them. He peered inside the truck, the windows seemingly whited out. He went around to the driver's side door and cautiously wrenched it open. Once the door was opened it swung forward, a sea of whipped cream falling out and on top of Puck. The crowd laughed, more pictures being taken and Jacob talking animatedly into the camera. Puck was covered in the fluffy white substance so that he now resembled a mohawked snowman. The whipped cream had been packed into the truck with so much pressure that it had burst out when he opened the door. Kurt and Santana shared a knowing smile before rushing back into the school, eager to plan the rest of Puck's worst day.

Puck got to his feet, surveying the damage, wondering who hated him enough to do this, briefly debating whether or not it was even a person and not God punishing him for being a bad Jew. First that goddamned shit in his pants that made his dick itch like hell, then the freaking tights which he was _still_ wearing (and dude, that shit rode up all into his butt crack), then the grasshoppers and the bacon (which he hoped God forgave him for, since he didn't know he was eating it), and now this shit with his truck. He always said he was too badass to cry, but it was times like this that made him wonder why he didn't just break down sobbing like a little bitch. He tried to wipe himself clean of the cream, and when he saw it was impossible he fell to his knees in frustration, the weight of the day's events seemingly bearing down on him.

"You love it!" Brittany clapped, yelling out from the silent crowd enthusiastically.

"What?" Puck said incredulously. "Britt, did you do this?"

"Yes!" she said excitedly. "It took us all fifth period, but we got it done! Doesn't your truck look so pretty now?"

"Wait…_us_? Who helped you?" Puck asked, wiping his eyes and getting to his whipped cream covered feet.

"Kurt and Santana told me not to say," Brittany said, unaware of the fire that erupted into Puck's eyes at the mention of Kurt's name.

_**You had my heart inside of your hands…**_

Puck was pissed. He should have known Kurt was behind all this shit. Who else knew his secret fear of grasshoppers? Who else knew the bacon story besides Finn, and let's face it Finn was no evil genius, he couldn't have planned what happened at lunch. And who else had access to the tools that could tow his truck into the middle of the parking lot and get all the tires off in less than an hour?

He was pissed, fucking royally pissed off at Kurt, and he was going to show him how angry he was. He stalked out of the parking lot, pushing people out of his way as he roamed the halls looking for Kurt. Still covered in whipped cream, the substance quickly turning to liquid and sticking to his skin uncomfortably, he opted to shower before confronting his ex-boyfriend.

Rushing to the locker room he pulled his shower caddy from his locker and jumped into the empty showers. Rinsing away the whipped cream he tried to let the water cool his raging temper, hoping it would calm him down so he didn't do something to Kurt (and Santana, he didn't forget about that bitch Santana) he would regret.

Squeezing a dollop of shampoo into his hand he worked it into his mohawk, making sure to coat it completely. He took great pride in his haircut, making sure to trim it daily so no stray hairs grew and he made sure to wash it often so that it stayed soft and fresh. As he massaged the shampoo into his scalp he realized something was wrong. His hair was moving too much. Like _way_ too much. Like, his hair was not supposed to be slipping on the side of his head or by his ears. Reaching around on his scalp he found his hair dripping off his head. Literally dripping off…he looked down and there were huge clumps of hair on the shower floor. He pulled his hands down, a chunk of his hair in his grasp as he swore out loud in panic. Rushing to the mirrors by the sink, he saw his reflection and it made him nearly scream: his hair was falling out.

He punched the glass in rage, luckily not getting any shards of the mirror on his fists. Fuck! He should've known they'd messed with his shampoo. They'd already been inside his locker and took out his sweat pants, of course they'd put something in his shampoo. He swore out loud again as he rushed back to the shower and rinsed the shit off his head, making sure to keep it out of his face and off his body or else he'd be completely hairless, and as badass as he was there was no way he could pull off no eyebrows. He rinsed himself off completely and quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, shaking in anger as he strode out of the locker room soaking wet and completely bald.

In the empty corridors he was harassed once again by Jacob Ben Israel, who asked him if because of his shaved head he was having a Britney Spears style meltdown before Puck casually pushed him to the floor and threw his microphone down the opposite end of the hall. "Rabbi Horowitz will be hearing about this!" Jacob swore as he got to his feet with the aid of his cameraman.

Puck continued to walk down the empty halls, finally spotting Kurt deep in conversation with Santana at the end of a hallway, both of them cutting class and no doubt plotting the next step of their diabolical plot. He walked up to him, his towel and bald head doing nothing to soften his menacing glare. Kurt looked up in surprise and a brief chuckle escaped his lips at Puck's current hairstyle (or lack of one) and ensemble (again, or lack of one), Santana joining in for a quick laugh. Puck sneered before lifting the countertenor over his wet shoulder, carrying him down the hallway. Kurt pounded his fists on Puck's back, making disparaging remarks about his intelligence and fashion sense, demanding to be put down. As he disappeared down the hall Santana called out for him to be strong and to 'fight the power', whatever that meant. Puck ignored Kurt's pounding fists, carrying him to the nearest janitor's closet, putting him on his feet and locking the door as he turned to Kurt in anger.

He strode up to Kurt, who looked more than a little terrified though he did a good job of hiding it, and placed a hand on each side of Kurt's head against the wall and said in a menacing growl, "What. The. Fuck."

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked, batting his eyelashes at Puck in his best act of innocence and ignorance.

"Don't fuck with me Kurt," Puck warned, his fists clenching. Kurt was scared. He didn't know if Puck would physically hurt him. He never had before, not even back before they were dating when Puck was bullying him, but Kurt had never pushed him like he had today. Kurt was still a guy after all, and he didn't know if Puck had any qualms about hitting him just because they used to date. So even in his fear he surprised himself by stirring up a false sense of confidence, as if he knew Puck would never hurt him even though he had no idea if he might end up like Tina Turner in _What's Love Got to Do With It?_.

"We're not together anymore so I have no reason to be fucking with you," Kurt shot back. Their eyes never waivered from each other's, each daring the other to blink or look away, to give up in their stupid game so the other could be declared the winner.

Puck was the first to break. He pulled away from Kurt before running his hands through his bald head. Normally he would feel the comforting bristle of his mohawk and it would calm him somewhat, but feeling its absence only made him more upset.

"Look, I don't care about the locker fire, or the shit you put in my pants, or the tights or the grasshoppers or the gay hooker ad, and the bacon you'll have to take up with the guy upstairs when he wants to know why you corrupted one of his chosen people with pork," Puck ranted, "and I don't even give a fuck about the truck, which you are so cleaning up by the way. But the 'hawk, dude. Why did you have to fuck with my 'hawk?"

"You know I always hated that thing," Kurt shrugged indifferently. Puck leaned against the wall opposite Kurt, each sizing each other up. Puck seemed to have lost his anger, too tired from the day's events to hold onto it for so long. Meanwhile Kurt had been holding onto his anger for days and was not about to let it slip away because of the pitiful look on Puck's face.

"Why'd you do it Kurt?" Puck asked, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He wasn't going to throttle Kurt, or punch him, or even give him a good spanking. He just wanted it to be over.

"I could ask you the same thing," Kurt said. As cryptic as his response was Puck knew just what he was talking about.

"Is this about the Quinn thing?" Puck asked exasperated.

"No, it's because you forgot the Macy's One Day sale last week," Kurt said with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I thought we were good," Puck said with a shrug. He readjusted the towel around his waist as he nearly crumbled under Kurt's death glare.

"What in the immortal name of Alexander McQueen made you think that?" Kurt asked, barely fighting back the urge to claw Puck's eyes out.

"I don't know," Puck said, his bare feet kicking at the tiled floor. "I told you what was going on, I let you know things were over between us. I thought I did everything you're supposed to do when you break up."

"That was not a break up!" Kurt screamed. "You snuck into my room like a criminal, told me you're leaving me for someone you've been seeing behind my back, and left because you had a date with her that same night! That was not a break up, that was a hit and run."

"Dude, I told you what was going on. I didn't keep you out of the loop and, like, sleep with her when I was still with you. I thought I was doing the honorable thing letting you go," Puck said. He sauntered up to Kurt and leaned next to him on the wall, his wet skin glistening under the fluorescent light.

"We went out for months and yet you still call me 'dude'," Kurt said with an eye roll. Turning to Puck he said, "Look, Noa – Puck, you may have let me know, but you let me know when you already made up your mind. You didn't tell me you were seeing someone else or you were losing interest in me. You just said goodbye. You didn't even give me a chance to fight for us." Kurt's eyes teared up, a single one falling before Puck scooped him into his naked arms. "_You_ didn't fight for us," Kurt whispered into Puck's chest.

"I thought we were already over," Puck admitted, still clutching Kurt. "I didn't…I thought it was only a matter of time before we ended it, so I guess I jumped the gun and went looking for someone before it was cool."

"What made you think we were over?" Kurt said, taken aback at Puck's confession. He thought they had a solid relationship; sure they fought, but what couple didn't, and they always made up. He broke away from Puck, wiping his eyes and mentally wincing at what Puck's wet skin had done to his Marc Jacobs shirt.

"Dude, we fought all the time," Puck said. Kurt pinched him at the utterance of that despised word 'dude', making Puck flinch. "Sorry, _Kurt_," Puck said.

"Couples fight," Kurt said. "It would've been weird if we didn't fight."

"Yeah, but we fought all the time," Puck reminded him. Looking back he found Puck was right. They fought…a lot. "We'd fight over stupid shit, like where to eat or whose house we were going to. I mean, yeah, we fought over important stuff but mostly it seemed we fought just to fight."

Kurt's mind flashed back to their relationship. They didn't fight that much…did they? Sure, Kurt would pick at Puck's clothing and less than stellar grades, but he only did that in order to show him how great he could be. And yes, maybe sometimes Kurt would get jealous whenever Puck interacted with anybody else, and then act coldly to him without warning, but Puck should've known how insecure Kurt was. Not to say that Puck didn't have his own jealousy issues; he would throw a gigantic tantrum whenever Kurt spoke to another guy, and sometimes he would make fun of Kurt's clothing in order to make the countertenor realize how hurtful it was when he did it to him, which only caused another fight to break out. They didn't just fight over the big things; they fought over stupid things, like what movie to watch, which side of the bed they preferred to sleep on, what they were doing for the weekend. In short, they fought…a lot. That was bad enough, but the worst part was their unforgiving nature, each content to let the other stew in their own anger rather than apologize or say they were wrong. This ultimately proved to be their undoing.

"You're right," Kurt admitted. "I guess we were both just stubborn idiots. But was it really just the fighting?"

"Well, that and you were getting sick of me," Puck said with a chuckle. Kurt looked at him bemusedly.

"What are you talking about?" Kurt asked.

"Du – Kurt," he said, "near the end you couldn't stand me."

"That is not true!" Kurt objected.

"Yeah, it is," Puck said in amused remembrance. "Every time you saw me you would ignore me or insult my intelligence and make fun of my badassness. I think that last one hurt the most," he said in mock hurt. Kurt slapped his arm, making him chuckle. "Face it, if I hadn't broken up with you, you would have found a way to end it with me."

"I don't think I would have," Kurt said, leaning back into the wall and crossing his arms as the 20/20 vision of hindsight shed light onto their past relationship. "I probably would have let it die, refusing to believe we were over. Maybe then you wouldn't have had to go through what you went through today," he said in shame.

"It wasn't that bad," Puck said. "I gotta admit those were some pretty good revenge pranks. Just tell me that's it," he pleaded.

"Well," Kurt said, avoiding Puck's stare. He knelt down to where his bag dropped when Puck let him down from his shoulder, pulling out a stack of color copied photos. Puck looked at the pictures and let out a chuckle, surprising Kurt. The photos were of a naked Puck, laid out on Kurt's bed, his legs spread apart and a bright pink vibrator working its way out of his ass as his face contorted in a mixture of concentration and pleasure.

"I forgot I had this," Puck said with a smile. "Let me guess, you were going to plaster them around the school?"

"That was the plan," Kurt said, glad that Puck wasn't mad.

"Did you get this out of my room?" Puck said, flicking through the stack. He handed it back to Kurt, who placed them back into his bag.

"Yeah, yesterday," Kurt said.

"So that's what Hanns was saying when I got home," he said. Seeing Kurt's confused expression he clarified, "She said someone came by but she wasn't supposed to say because they paid her a million dollars not to tell."

"Santana may have bribed her to keep her mouth shut," Kurt admitted.

"I thought I was missing some cash," Puck said. He leaned on to the wall, looking at Kurt fondly. "You didn't look too deep into the sex box, did you?"

"No. Why?" Kurt asked.

"I still have some pictures of you," Puck said with a smirk. Kurt gasped, blushing as he realized Puck did indeed have scandalous pictures of him, the first one that came to mind was of him deep-throating Puck's sizeable cock, nearly half of it sticking out lewdly from his mouth, and he was sure there was another one in there of him with cum splashed all over his face.

"Burn those, please," Kurt said, burying his face in his hands.

"Naw, I think I'll keep them for when I need some private entertainment," Puck said, ruffling Kurt's hair, something that _always_ got on his nerves.

"You're with Quinn, now," Kurt reminded him, straightening his hair. "You have all the private entertainment you need," he said a little bitterly.

"She's still president of the Chastity Club," Puck said. "You basically need the jaws of life to get her legs open."

"You did it once before," Kurt said.

"She's sworn off liquor," Puck said. "I have to rely on my charming ways, and so far she's proven immune."

Kurt chuckled awkwardly before confessing, "We…kind of got into it today."

"What do you mean?" Puck asked, grabbing Kurt's chin and scanning his face for any cuts or bruises.

"No, not physically," he assured him, pulling touched at Puck's concern. "She cornered me and told me to quit with the pranks. I refused and may have insulted her body before threatening to go all Dorothy of Oz on her ass."

Puck let out a loud laugh. "You have got to stop threatening to drop houses on people. Remember the lady at Bloomingdales?"

"She tried to sell me last season Rock & Republic boots before insisting they were only for women! She's lucky I didn't report her to the national office," Kurt said, still upset at his treatment by the store.

There was a tense silence between them, during which Puck stared at Kurt and Kurt avoided Puck's gaze as best he could. Eventually Kurt and Puck rested their backs on the same wall, staring at the same spot on the opposite wall as if it were an amusing movie. Neither moved, each afraid of breaking the delicate ease they'd fallen into.

A question scratched at the back of Kurt's head, but it was one he was afraid to say aloud. Finally, unable to ignore it, he asked, "Why her?"

The simple question was a loaded one, and Puck wasn't stupid enough to miss its importance. "You mean, besides the kid thing?"

"I know you have a child together, and though you're not raising Beth together it had to have some kind of impact on your decision to get with her," Kurt said, a tear once again spilling from his eyes.

"Honestly, the Beth thing had nothing to do with it," Puck admitted, reaching over and wiping away the stray tear that fell down Kurt's cheek. "I'm with her because she makes me feel the way you did when we first dated. Not exactly the same, because what I felt for you at first I don't think I'll ever feel with anyone again, ever," he said, and here Kurt couldn't help but blush, "but she sure comes in a close second."

Kurt looked up, satisfied with the answer. For these past few days he'd worried Puck chose Quinn because she could give him something he never could: children, a family, a normal life. Now he knew Puck chose Quinn because of something Kurt had already given him: love. Things were certainly over between him and Puck, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold dear all the things they'd had when they were together.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the current period and the beginning of the next, which happened to be Glee Club.

"Come on, No – Puck. We should get going," Kurt said, pulling away from Puck, whose hand was still softly stroking Kurt's cheek where the tear had fallen. Puck looked down on himself, still naked except for the towel, before shooting a raised eyebrow to Kurt.

"Stay here, I'll go scrounge up some clothes for you," Kurt promised.

"Don't call me Puck," he asked of him.

"What?" Kurt asked, confused.

"I hate when you call me Puck. I mean, yeah, that's what I want almost everyone else to call me, hell, even Quinn still calls me Puck, but it just doesn't sound right when you say it," he said. "Call me Noah."

"Alright," Kurt agreed, leaving the janitor's closet.

_**But you played it to the beat…**_

Glee Club commenced, with the students taking their seats and Mr. Schue writing this week's lesson on the board before launching straight into a spiel about it. "Forgiveness. Now who wants to give me an example…" Everyone tuned him out after the first word, Rachel and Finn the only ones intent on paying him any attention.

"Hey, what happened?" Santana asked, whispering over Mr. Schue's speech as she leaned over to Kurt. "We were supposed to meet last period. Are we still going to put the pictures up?"

"No," Kurt whispered, "that's off." He looked over his shoulder to where Puck was sitting with Quinn, the clothes he'd gotten from Finn's locker looking comically large on the boy. He ignored the dark stare Quinn shot at him before turning forward to Mr. Schue.

"What did he say to you?" Santana asked, not missing Kurt's quick glimpse at Puck and Quinn.

Ignoring Santana's question Kurt raised his hand, getting the attention of Mr. Schuester.

"Kurt, what is it buddy?" Mr. Schue said, addressing the countertenor.

"Mr. Schue, I have a song that I feel would be appropriate for this week's lesson," Kurt said, clutching his hands tightly.

"Okay," Mr. Schue said with his ever-present smile, "let's hear it."

Kurt took a songbook out of his bag before walking down the riser, meeting Brad at the piano. Turning to the song he wanted he instructed Brad on which key to play it before going to the front of the room and taking a seat at the stool Mr. Schue had set down for him.

"This is for someone who I felt wronged me, and so I thought the right thing to do was to get back at them for what they did to me. I realize now how foolish I was, and how revenge wasn't the answer. I should have forgiven them, and now instead I'm asking for their forgiveness. So, you know who you are, I hope you can forgive me," Kurt announced, looking quickly at Puck before signaling to Brad to begin.

"Looks like our boy's rejected your evil ways, Satan," Mercedes whispered triumphantly to Santana.

"Damn. Well there goes my plans for the week," she said once she realized her fun game with Kurt was over.

Kurt let the few quick piano keys play out before belting out into the low haunting melody of the song.

_I heard that you're settled down,  
>that you found a girl and you're married now, <em>

_I heard that your dreams came true,_

_Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you._

_Old friend, why are you so shy? _

_Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light._

As much as his voice waivered Kurt continued with the song, hastily wiping back the tears he felt rising to his eyes.

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited_

_but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it._

_I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded _

_that for me, it isn't over. _

_Never mind I'll find someone like you, _

_I wish nothing but the best for you, too._

"_Don't forget me," I begged._

"_I'll remember," you said._

_Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead._

_Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead._

He stole a quick glance at Puck, whose hands were locked in an embrace with Quinn's, and though it pricked at his heartstrings a little he realized it didn't hurt as much as it did before. 'Maybe this is healing,' he thought. 'Maybe I can be okay with this'

_You know how the time flies,_

_Only yesterday was the time of our lives._

_We were born and raised in a summer haze,_

_Bound by the surprise of our glory days._

Instantly his mind returned to all the good times they had, and maybe that's what had clouded his mind when he sought his payback. He remembered only all the good times he and Puck shared, not remembering the fights and the arguing, the tears spilled and the curses yelled. He'd looked back as a romantic, but now he saw their relationship for what it really was: flawed and imperfect.

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited_

_but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it._

_I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded _

_that for me, it isn't over. _

_Never mind I'll find someone like you, _

_I wish nothing but the best for you, too._

"_Don't forget me," I begged._

"_I'll remember," you said._

_Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead. _

He meant this verse the most. He really did wish the best for Puck and Quinn, and though he might never admit it outside the confines of his mind, he did want to find someone like Puck. Maybe not exactly, but as far as first boyfriends go Puck had been wonderful and Kurt realized he'd be lucky to find someone like him in the future.

_Nothing compares, no worries or cares, _

_Regrets and mistakes they're memories made._

_Who would've known how bittersweet _

_this would taste?_

_Never mind I'll find someone like you, _

_I wish nothing but the best for you._

"_Don't forget me," I begged._

"_I'll remember," you said._

_Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead. _

_Never mind I'll find someone like you, _

_I wish nothing but the best for you, too._

"_Don't forget me," I begged._

"_I'll remember," you said._

_Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead,_

_Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead._

He finished to an uproarious applause from the Glee Club. Getting to his feet he eyed Puck, whose eyes were glistening, and they exchanged a brief smile, each forgiving the other for their past transgressions. They reached a silent compromise, a new friendship. Kurt realized it was the silver lining that came out of their relationship, and he embraced it wholeheartedly.

**THE END.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Firstly, thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys have no idea how wonderful you make me feel when you give me such warm reviews. I never know how a story will be received, to find out that it's actually enjoyed by someone other than myself is always a surprise, and it gives me a boost of confidence so that I can start a new story without worrying that no one will like it. So thank you all for reviewing!**

**Yes, this is the end. If you feel a little bitter about it remember this story was labeled as Angst and Hurt/Comfort, and I think I got all three of those things down. And I have to say it feels pretty damn good to actually finish a multichapter fic haha. Don't worry, I'll return to my other fics soon. I just needed a (long ass) break from them. **

**Anyway, hope you liked this one! I know I couldn't please all of you, but I hope I stayed true to the characters and accurately portrayed how they would react given each situation. **

**Once again, thanks for reading and reviewing!**


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